Honey Bubbles
by angelofthequeers
Summary: Hunting is exhausting, especially if you're an angel with faulty grace working past the aftermath of being possessed by the Devil himself. But luckily for Cas, Dean's there to take care of him afterwards, with sweet words and honey scented baths. Post S11, sequel to 'This Is Why Communication Is Key'. Trigger warning for mentions of self-harm.


**Disclaimer: I don't own SPN.**

 **Best friend needed bath fluff, so I obliged. And it's been a SUPER hectic week, otherwise I'd have updated this series sooner!**

"I'd forgotten how disgusting this is," Mary complains, raking her fingers through her bloodstained blonde hair as they stumble into the bunker. "I'd gotten used to not having to worry about getting blood out of my favourite clothes and explaining to the neighbours why we looked like we were a poster family for domestic violence."

Cas' lips twitch at the very 'Dean' attitude that Mary has. Although if she's his mother, shouldn't Dean technically have a 'Mary' attitude? Cas supposes that it doesn't really matter.

"Did you ever get the cops called on you?" Sam says. Mary shoots him a wide smile.

"Maybe once or twice," she says mischievously. "How about you get this old bag of bones some coffee and I'll tell you?"

"You're not _that_ old!" Dean says quickly as Sam goes to make the coffee. Cas collapses into a seat next to Dean, wishing that his damaged grace from both Lucifer's possession and missing most of it in the spell to keep Heaven shut could rid him of this bone deep fatigue that has settled on him. At the moment, he doesn't even have the strength to clean himself from the blood and intestines covering him like a foul coat of paint – the leftovers of the ghouls they had been hunting.

"Dean, stop brown-nosing," Mary says with a fond smile, ruffling her son's hair.

"I'm not! You're _younger_ than me!"

"Only in body. I certainly _feel_ old. You don't have to see me as this idol on a pedestal, you know."

Mary sighs.

"Your father told you boys so many stories about me that I sometimes think you don't see me as just Mary. You see me as this great, flawless, holy mother and…Dean, I've made my mistakes. It's my fault all of this crap happened to you two. If it wasn't for me –"

"Azazel wouldn't have gotten to me, Dad wouldn't have raised us like that and then sold his soul and we wouldn't have started the Apocalypse," Sam rattles off, entering the room with a tray of four steaming mugs. "Mom, you can't keep blaming yourself for making that deal."

"Hypocrite," Cas mumbles, his eyelids drooping. He's startled awake when Dean gives a loud laugh and slaps him on the back, and he accepts the mug of coffee that Sam hands him.

"Double hypocrite," Sam retorts. Cas knows that he's referring to saying yes to Lucifer but, to his tired surprise, he doesn't even feel any pain at the reminder that the archangel had broken him. Perhaps he's starting to move past it at last. Or maybe only Sam, who has been in Cas' position, has the right to joke about it. He's not sure that even Dean would be able to make jokes about it without evoking a negative reaction.

"Sammy might be an annoying bitch but he's right," Dean says, smirking at Sam when the younger man shoots him a 'bitch face', as he has christened them. "You didn't know all the crap that was gonna go down from that deal. You just had to save Dad. Same with me and Sam."

They come to an unspoken agreement after that to let the matter of blame and demon deals go and instead drink their coffee, Mary regaling them with tales of her hunter youth. These moments are so much more special to Cas than a lot of things in his life and while he's not sure exactly why listening to Mary's stories might be so dear to him, he has a suspicion that it's because he had never had a mother before. Why would he have? His Father hadn't had a wife, and the only maternal figure he could have had had been locked away for eons before he had even been created. And even so, he doesn't think that Amara would have made such a good mother figure, what with her innate nature of destroying everything in creation before Dean had forced her to see the error of her ways.

A strange but not unfamiliar feeling begins to simmer in Cas' gut. He's…jealous. Jealous of Sam and Dean, despite the fact that they had only had a mother for six months and four years respectively. It's still longer than he's ever had a mother. Jealous of them now, getting their mother back and being able to talk to her and laugh with her and get to know her, while the only parental figure he's had abandoned him two thousand years ago and then, when He finally came back, didn't even bother to talk to him past maybe five words. Cas can't deny that it still hurts, the fact that the immoral Lucifer had received forgiveness and attention from their Father and yet he, in all his misguided good intentions, Cas barely got even acknowledgement from God.

"Cas?"

A hand gently shakes his arm. He jumps, nearly spilling his half-full mug of lukewarm coffee, and snaps out of his trance to see all three Winchesters staring at him in concern.

"I'm fine," he says automatically. "I am just…tired. My grace has not yet fully replenished itself. In fact, I don't think it ever will unless the spell sealing Heaven is broken and the rest of my grace is retrieved from it."

That also hurts deeply. Why hadn't God broken that spell and given the angels back their wings – if not for him and his grace, then for all of His other children? Has he really turned into that much of a despicable being that he still requires further punishment?

"I'll run ya a bath," Dean says. "If you're that close to fallin' asleep, I don't think a shower would be good unless ya wanna fall over and crack your head open. And you can't go to sleep covered in blood."

"I think I'll shower and hit the hay as well," Sam agrees, standing up and stretching. "I'll take these –"

"Go shower, Sammy," Mary says with a dismissive wave, snatching the empty mug from him. "I'll wash these and then get in after you. I think we could all do with a good night's sleep."

With that settled, Dean gently tugs Cas to his feet. Mary leans up to kiss Sam on the forehead and hug him, then approaches Dean to do the same. Much to Cas' surprise, he also receives a loving hug and kiss.

"I'm so proud of all three of my boys for the way you all look out for each other," she smiles, gathering up the other three mugs. "Goodnight, you lot."

Cas just stares after her. She'd said all _three_ of her boys. She considers him a son? What has he done to deserve such an honour?

"C'mon." Dean pulls Cas in the direction of the bathroom and once they are inside, he closes the door and crosses over to the massive bath tub.

"She's right, y'know," Dean says suddenly as the bath is filling up with hot water. Cas' stomach jolts pleasantly when Dean adds his favourite honey-scented shampoo to create bubbles and he's powerless against the wave of affection that surges through him and leaves him feeling tingly. "When she said all three of her boys. We might be – y'know – _together_ , but you're our family no matter what."

"Much as I appreciate the sentiment, why did you say that just now?" Cas asks. Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Dude, I can read you. The look on your face when Mom called you one of her boys…you never had that before, did you?"

Cas attempts a nonchalant shrug but he's not quite sure he pulls it off.

"I'd never met my Father before His disappearance," he says. "And it isn't as though I had much opportunity to talk to Him when He returned. I'm glad that Lucifer finally got to tell God how he felt, though."

He's trying not to sound bitter, even though he knows it's not working judging by the look on Dean's face.

"What about _you_ , Cas? You had more right to talk to Chuck than Lucifer! You've been trying to do the right thing – Lucifer tried to fuck everything up!"

Cas gives Dean an odd smile but doesn't say anything.

"And I never had much in the way of a maternal figure," the angel says. "Amara was locked away before I came into existence. Even if she hadn't been, she hadn't been the caring type until your talk with her. And even now, she really only cares about her brother."

He hasn't realised that he's crying until Dean turns the taps off and cups his face, swiping away Cas' tears with his thumbs.

"Well, you got a maternal figure now," Dean says firmly, pressing soft kisses to the tear tracks on Cas' cheeks. "Mom's practically adopted you as one of us and Sammy's your brother in everything but blood. And me…"

Dean looks away, suddenly insecure, biting his lip.

"You know what you are to me, Cas," he says quietly. "You know I love you. Even if we weren't… _this_ , I'd still love you. Just like a brother. We've been through too much shit for me not to."

Cas gives a watery laugh and leans in to kiss Dean.

"I love you too, Dean. I've loved you ever since I laid a hand on you in Hell."

Dean grins and kisses him again, then pulls away.

"Right, that's enough chick flick shit. Get these clothes off and get your ass in there before you fall asleep."

In the midst of their 'chick flick moment', Cas had forgotten about his weariness, but now it comes crashing back down on him and he stumbles and nearly falls when he tries to take off his pants. Snickering, a naked Dean helpfully undresses him and then climbs into the bath, tugging Cas down into the water between his legs. Cas' stomach churns unpleasantly at the sight of the pearly scars crisscrossing both of his forearms – he'd expected them to simply heal like every other angel blade wound he'd received but they still had not faded, serving as an ugly reminder of his weak state of mind – and he doesn't realise that he's digging his fingernails into his left arm until Dean gently pulls his hand away.

"Hey," Dean says gently when Cas tries to bury his arms underneath the bubbly water. "C'mon, sweetheart. Not like I haven't seen worse."

Cas gives a dark laugh but he lets Dean pull his mutilated arms from the water and run his hands over them.

"Stop romanticising my lack of strength, Dean," he mutters, hunching over. Dean just continues to stroke his forearms.

"I'm not. You _are_ strong, Cas, or you'd've given up instead of trying to do something to keep yourself alive – even if what you did was messed up. I'm not romanticising the scars. I'm romanticising _you_. Just like you like me, not _my_ scars."

"At least your scars have stories behind them!"

"So do yours. It might be a way crappier story but it's still showing how strong you are. I _don't_ love your scars, Cas. I hate 'em and I wish I could make 'em disappear so you never have to look at them again. But I love _you_ and they're part of you now. _You're_ beautiful, not _them_."

"So I just have to 'get over it'?" Cas says quietly.

"You just gotta accept that they're there. I hate every scar on _my_ body – the ones that you don't heal. But I've learned to just accept 'em and move on."

"You still berate yourself for every small thing you do wrong."

"Yeah but that's different. I don't continue to beat myself up _because_ of the scars but 'cause of what gave 'em to me."

Rather than continue to argue the point, Cas sags back against Dean's chest with a small groan, the hot water soaking into his sore muscles. He's not sure if he'll be able to remain awake for the duration of their bath but he forces himself not to drift off as Dean carefully – almost reverently – washes out all of the blood and grime from his hair and skin, turning the water an ugly, murky colour. As he goes, Dean is sure to leave kisses all over Cas' back and shoulders and Cas melts into a purring puddle, wondering just why his brothers and sisters must be so foolish as to deny themselves this human affection. How can this be a sin when it feels so good and _right_? And what has he done to deserve this?

"You're fucking adorable, Cas," Dean laughs, running his fingers through Cas' wet hair. "Seriously. Most adorable angel in Heaven. You purr like a freaking cat! Just don't tell anyone I called you adorable. Gotta keep my manliness."

"Your secret's safe with me," Cas slurs, his eyes fluttering shut. Despite the heat of the water, he shivers when Dean's hand ghosts all over his torso, gliding over his nipples and making him moan softly. Dean's hand pauses just above his groin.

"Can I?" Dean asks. Cas remembers the last time Dean touched him in such an intimate way. It remains the only time that Dean has touched him like that, mostly because he's been too mentally messed up to take things further and too…afraid. Yes, afraid. He knows what an expert Dean is at sex and he doesn't want to disappoint the man, who is already doing enough for the broken angel and putting up with him.

"You can," Cas says, then adds truthfully, "but I'll probably be too asleep to give you the reaction you're after."

Dean snorts and moves his hand away.

"Yeah, no. Somnophilia isn't my thing. Unless you're gonna wake me up with sex – then that's totally cool with me."

Castiel laughs sleepily. Dean seems to notice the tone of his laughter.

"Alright, you're clean enough. Out you get."

Cas' eyelids are incredibly heavy but he obediently lets Dean dry him off – madly ruffling his hair in the towel and earning a half-asleep glare for his trouble – and then wrap the fluffy towel around his waist and secure it. Once he's dried himself off, he takes Cas by the hand and leads him out of the bathroom and towards their room.

"I don't know how humans do it," Cas yawns as Dean selects pyjamas for the both of them from his wardrobe and then begins to dress Cas. He probably should feel affronted and annoyed that Dean is basically babying him but really, he's much too tired to care. "I've been human and I still can't fathom how they can live with being so _tired_."

Dean just laughs at that, then dresses himself when he finishes clothing Cas, who gratefully collapses onto their bed. Dean follows a moment later, tugging the blanket up over them and then practically wrapping himself around Cas, imprisoning the angel in a tight hug.

"You okay today?" Dean asks. "With…with your head and everything?"

Cas shrugs.

"Only the usual self-deprecating thoughts and depression," he says sardonically. Somehow, it's easier to deal with his depression if he simply laughs it off and now he truly understands why Dean has always simply made jokes out of his own damaged mental state. He makes a small, pleased sound when Dean kisses him on the forehead and begins to stroke his damp hair.

"You'll get there," Dean says, kissing him again. "Took me ages to get past all the Hell shit – and now everything else's happened. Just remember to _talk_ to me if you need it. You capiche?"

"I capiche," Cas murmurs. It's the last thing he registers before his eyes close and his mind slips into sleep to replenish his depleted grace.


End file.
